


the knight of beskar

by oceanaa



Series: The Adventures of Rey (Djarin-Skywalker) [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Force Healing (Star Wars), Gen, Planet Jakku (Star Wars), Pre-Canon, Young Rey (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28608900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanaa/pseuds/oceanaa
Summary: And she heard tales of knights no ordinary soldier could defeat, as mysterious as they were mighty. The Knights of Beskar, as her mother named them in a hushed whisper. Beware the swords of piercing light, for they will mow down all in their path, and only a Knight of Beskar will be able to protect you.A young Rey’s first encounter with the Mandalorian in the unforgiving Jakku desert.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda (mentioned), Din Djarin & Rey
Series: The Adventures of Rey (Djarin-Skywalker) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102853
Comments: 7
Kudos: 273





	the knight of beskar

**Author's Note:**

> stay with me on this. i swear.  
> rey is like. 14 here? 15 at the oldest.  
> canon is my play dough and i am mashing all the colors together.  
> that includes making the “niima outpost” more of a town than the camp it is in the movie.

_She was young. She was small._

_The Jakku desert was no place for a girl her age. The desert, with its blistering daylight and chilled night, was a hostile environment even the most resilient species struggled with. The desert was a burial ground for all monsters; monsters of bleached bone and monsters of twisted steel alike._

_She did not belong in this world, and yet it was all she had._

_And so she adapted. And where she could not adapt, she did everything in her power to bend the world to her will. It worked sometimes, too. Like when those Empire soldiers came limping into the outpost, and somehow, she managed to talk them into trading a month’s worth of their rations for a half-built long-distance transmitter. The transmitter itself was missing half its wiring, a project shed given up on over a year ago. It was supposed to be to call for her parents, but... but that wasn’t the point. That didn’t matter._

_She survived. She was young, small, she appeared weak to many, but she was_ angry _, and her fury gave her power. She would not listen to those telling her the outpost was no place for a girl her age._

_Her home was the empty husk of a small cargo ship, a half-hour walk from the outpost, hidden behind a steep dune. It was a safe home. Or, it was as safe a home as she could find and maintain in such a hostile environment._

_The ship was half-buried into the side of the dune; sand and dirt and grime covered nearly every inch of her home, but that was something she’d adjusted to long ago._

_Her days were simple: wake up, eat, hunt for any scrap of glinting metal in the endless ocean of heated sand, trade, eat, sleep, repeat. Seven years on her own taught her she was never allowed a moment of hesitation or respite._

_She learned to trust her own instincts above all else, never letting anyone get close enough to affect her. Friendships were a smoke dream, and alliances were untrustworthy and easily broken._

_The desert did not exist for play. The desert existed as a skeleton to cling to, the barest backbone of life._

_Her days were consistent. Her days were even._

_And then the Mandalorian came._

To say Rey was exhausted would’ve been an understatement. The heat was nearly unbearable, and with her speeder bike broken from last night’s crash, she was stuck in the outpost, nursing a strained left shoulder. The bike had practically fallen apart underneath her. Cheap materials and shoddy workmanship lead to her barely making it out of the crash without any serious injuries. Still, her shoulder ached, and Rey rolled it at the socket as best she could as she stalked across the open outpost center. She’d have to spend the evening focusing on that shoulder, or it would take forever to heal.

It was sweet talking and a bribe that got her the best seat at the shabby cantina. What she lacked in presentation she made up for in persuasion. Kahra Min, a maroon skinned Twi’lek, was the barkeep, and Rey spent the better part of a year slowly gaining her shaky trust. Now, she could easily slide into her favorite seat without a glance and steal soup or bread from the kitchen, if she was brave enough.

Her favorite table was hidden in the corner off to the right of the door, where Rey could both hide from those entering and monitor all tables and exits in the cantina. And if she sat facing the door, she could look to her right and observe everything outside in the outpost center.

It was the ideal spot to spend a too-hot day stuck in town, a bag of scrap and junk at her feet, eyeing every individual in sight. Today, it seemed the heat had gotten the better of more than was average. The only few stragglers were a team of cloaked creatures, hissing to each other as they loaded sloppily tied bundles into a speeder.

Rey turned away from them.

She watched as a short creature with a fabric mask and bulging goggles crept along the edge of one building, glancing around. It was so visibly nervous Rey almost flinched, like its obvious fear was her own. But it slipped off into an ally way, the flick of a long tail under its shabby cloak the last thing she saw. She huffed, grabbed her cup of cold broth, and slurped it noisily. Boring. The day was _boring._

It was the clinking of metal that brought her out of her sulk. It was faint, something small. It was barely even a sound, but Rey sat bolt upright and turned fully to peer out the window. Footsteps, it was footsteps she could hear.

Footsteps only made audible by the clinking of weapons against grimy, silver armor.

_When she was a child, she could remember... stories. She could remember stories of heroes and villains, of black and white morality where good and evil were as clear as night and day._

_There were stories of magical sorcerer warriors, who wielded power like no other, who fought battles that were as internal as they were external. The legends said they were even able to manipulate the Force, the very lifeblood of the universe. They were terrifying creatures of sheer power, wielding swords of light that could cut through anything, be it bone, metal, or flesh. They were creatures of destruction, so separated from the rest of their kind they were practically their own species._

_And she heard tales of knights no ordinary soldier could defeat, as mysterious as they were mighty. As a child, she remembered dreaming of those knights. The Knights of Beskar, as her mother named them in a hushed whisper. They had another name, she was sure of it, but it was lost to time-faded memories. Clad in unbreakable armor, they were the only knights capable of taking the sorcerers of the Force in a fair fight._

_There was nothing safer than that of a castle of Beskar, her father would whisper._

_But these two forces were not as one, her parents would say. They were rivals of mythic proportions, her father would say, and she would shiver for reasons she was too young to comprehend._

_As a child, these stories fascinated her. There was a pull to them, a curiosity that felt like a part of her just as much as her own pulse. When her parents ran out of tales of their own, she would stare at the desert sky and count the stars, and wonder if maybe, just maybe, some of the legends grew roots from reality, and maybe, just maybe, those knights were out there. Somewhere._

_But that was years ago. She had long since learned that legends were but superficial comforts for children. There were no all-powerful beings. There was only the Republic, and what remained of the Empire._

His armor was dulled by visible use, scuffed and dirty, but still it shone under the layer of filth. A tattered cloak hung from his shoulders. He did not stand tall, but almost slouched, yet that even from across the outpost center, Rey could _feel_ the power emanating from him.

As a child, her parents never really described the Knights of Beskar in physical detail. They were powerful. They were beautiful. They were clad in impenetrable armor and wielded too many weapons to count. But their image was blurred, smeared by Rey’s imperfect imagination.

This stranger reminded her of those blurry memories. Whether it was the gleaming helmet, or perhaps the sheer power that radiated from him, it was as if he was the missing face of those stories.

The stranger did not hesitate in the entry for long. He surveyed the area, eyes on a small device in his hand, then slipped away into a shaded ally. It was the same one the nervous creature with the goggles disappeared into.

Rey was out of her seat and halfway to the door before even realizing what she was doing.

In a hurry, she pulled up her fabric dust mask, covering her mouth and nose, and pulled the hood of her tunic up over her head and low over her eyes. Her boots were soft-soled, silent as she slipped between buildings, her bag of trinkets slung behind her. She moved slowly, careful not to let the contents of the bag clink or scrape or make any sound at all.

She scaled the side of one building quickly, ignoring the ache in her shoulder; she really should’ve dealt with it that morning. From there, it was easy to jump from roof to roof, above the line of sight for people below her. She was quiet, fast, and small, and she knew how to use it to her advantage.

After one particularly high jump, during which there was almost a second Rey felt like she was falling before she landed on the dusty rooftop, she finally caught sight of the armored stranger. He was hiding behind a stack of crates covered in tattered canvas, visibly tensed and waiting, like a predator awaiting its prey.

She watched, breath caught in her chest, as the stranger remained completely still, deadly silent even in the heavy armor. Rey wanted to lean in, wanted a closer look at this stranger, this stranger who she could not pull away from. Whether it was the armor, or… she didn’t know. She didn’t understand.

Rey only knew she _needed_ to find out who this stranger was. Something deep inside her was pushing her towards him. 

It happened so quickly she nearly missed it. One second, the stranger was still, somehow blending into the dingy wall despite how severely out of place he was; the next, the same nervous creature with the goggles came stumbling around the corner. Like lightning, the stranger was on the creature, taking it down in two quick hits.

Rey didn’t even have time to breathe before the creature was cuffed and pinned to the wall. She tried to hear if the stranger was talking to it, but the helmet must’ve muffled the words, and she couldn’t catch any of it.

A second later, the stranger was nudging the creature in the back with a blaster, and they shuffled out of the ally. Rey stalked them, careful to stay low against the roofs and out of sight. She followed them all the way to the entrance of the outpost, to a pair of footprints in the sand Rey assumed to be the stranger’s entrance.

Now that the stranger was leaving the outpost, following him would be significantly more difficult. The open desert left little to stay hidden. But her clothes were the same dull brown hue, an effective camouflage, and she couldn’t let the stranger go. She just couldn’t.

Rey let the mysterious pair go past her line of sight, over a large dune, before jogging along the footprints herself. She made sure to step in the stranger’s prints, on the off chance he came back and noticed her tracking him.

The prints continued for longer than she would’ve liked in the heat, but she was used to trekking across the desert. And finally, she saw what must have been the stranger’s destination: a small gunship hidden behind a rocky outcropping. The ship looked shabby by galactic standards, but to Rey, it looked almost mouthwatering. The parts she could find in that thing, if she had the time and tools…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the stranger coming down the exit ramp, this time alone. He must have left the nervous creature in his ship. Which most likely meant he was a bounty hunter. Of _course._ Only a bounty hunter would be that heavily armored and armed.

But Rey didn’t have time to ponder that, because she needed to go _now,_ before the stranger caught her.

She ran back to the outpost, every step the same as the ones when she came. The stranger- the _bounty hunter,_ would have no idea he was followed.

By the time Rey was back in the cantina, she was gasping for air, overheating and aching. Apparently, last night’s crash must’ve done more than she realized, for her muscles ached more than they should. She bit back a groan, pushing the palm of her hand against her side. She needed to do something about the pain.

After a quick glance around the cantina, Rey slid off the bench at her favorite table and sat, cross-legged, on the cool, smooth floor. She pulled her bag off, but kept it by her side. She also pulled her hood and mask away, finally gasping for air.

The cantina was empty, even Kahra Min was nowhere to be seen. While Rey preferred to deal with her pain and injuries alone and in the privacy of her own home, her home seemed miles away at her level of exhaustion.

Carefully, she prodded along her left thigh, biting the inside of her cheek as it throbbed with a dull ache. He right leg seemed okay, but the fall must’ve damaged her hip and leg as well as her shoulder. Kriffing speeder bike, she should’ve taken the thing apart and put it back together better before ever getting on it. She knew better.

Rey breathed. In, out. In, out, deep as her chest could take it. Gingerly, she unwrapped the protective strips from her hands, then tugged off her gloves, leaving them bare and exposed. After rubbing her palms together, Rey pressed them both against her thigh, eyes squeezed shut.

Digging the heel of her palm into the tense flesh of her thigh _hurt,_ even through the fabric of her pants. She at least pushed her tunic aside, so she was only working through one layer of fabric. Still, working away the bruises hidden in her skin felt almost as painful as the accident that caused them.

The clang of those armored footsteps shook her out of her trance.

When Rey opened her eyes, the stranger, now turned bounty hunter in her eye, was standing in the door of the cantina. He wouldn’t notice her, at least not yet, but she watched him cross over to the bar and look around.

Kahra Min appeared only seconds later, and Rey watched as her usual bored expression morphed into one of visible shock as she focused on the bounty hunter. She was a large woman, tall and muscular, shoulders broad enough to intimidate even the toughest raiders. Seeing her shocked was enough to make Rey feels echoes of that shock, despite already knowing what the bounty hunter looked like.

“What’s a Mandalorian doing in these parts?” Kahra Min asked, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

 _Mandalorian._ What did that mean?

 _Mandalorian._ She knew it.

Why did she know it?

The bounty hunter shifted, hands at his belt. “Fuel. Food. Do you have any?” His voice was tinged with a metallic filter from the helmet, causing some flicker in Rey’s outermost subconscious, gone before she could grasp it.

She shouldn’t be listening.

She inched closer despite herself.

“Food is scarce and only by trade or double price around here. But I can get you fuel,” Kahra Min said, looking more sure of herself now that she apparently adjusted to the stranger’s appearance.

When the bounty hunter set something on the bar counter, Kahra Min smiled, said, “Or that’ll do,” and turned away. The bounty hunter nodded to her, then turned to scan the cantina.

The back of Rey’s neck tingled as she felt the hidden gaze land on her. Maybe the helmet gave away nothing in terms of feelings or emotions, but the intensity was only strengthened. Rey swallowed, but held the bounty hunter’s gaze.

He turned away after only a second.

She needed out of there. Rey needed to _go._

Without even pulling her gloves back on, she gathered her stuff and snuck out of the cantina, stomach-churning.

Why she’d followed the bounty hunter, why she _cared_ so much, Rey didn’t know. But now, as she shivered in the blistering heat, back to the wall of an ally, she knew she needed to stop indulging in this whim. There, right in her grasp, was a ship with little visible protection. She needed to think practically. She needed to get to work.

The bounty hunter said he needed fuel, which meant his ship was probably low. Maybe he would find some at the outpost, or maybe he would just hop to a nearby planet, but Jakku was more isolated than most. Hopefully, he would need to find fuel now instead of later.

Which meant Rey had, at best, an hour before the bounty hunter would be back at his ship. She needed to move quickly.

There wasn’t enough time to get a new bag or empty the one she had, but she had enough tools in it she wasn’t too worried. The rocky outcropping had looked like she could easily hide in it until the bounty hunter and his ship left. Good. This was good.

She pulled her mask and hood back on, covered her hands, and set off.

Despite already being exhausted, despite her head beginning to pound with the beginnings of a killer headache, she did her best to run back to the bounty hunter’s ship. When she finally made it back, her entire body was shaking from exersion. But she couldn’t give in.

The first thing Rey did was walk up the exit ramp, tensed and waiting for trouble. The ship was silent. She could hear only the faint hum of the desert wind outside.

Immediately, she found herself in a small cargo hold. She glanced around for anything of use, but only took a small blaster resting casually on a stack of storage containers.

There were two small rooms to either side of the cargo hold. The left one was empty save for storage containers and a small, hastily made table next to a dismal looking cot. She peered at the table, but it held nothing of value. A shiny rock, a small metal ball, a silver tube of what felt like cookies or crackers. She took the tube but left the rest.

The right room looked like a ‘fresher, with the nervous creature from earlier cuffed to a bar bolted to the wall of the ship, and slumped over but breathing. She ignored it, returning to the cargo bay.

Frustration pulled at her thoughts. Rey expected the ship to have more than it did. This thing looked barely lived in, and she didn’t have the time or tools to properly strip it. Bounty hunters were supposed to have something of _value._

Rey’s entire body ached, and it was more than just the residual pain of her crash the night before. She’d overexerted herself, she could tell. Lack of sleep due to her injured shoulder, forgetting to finish eating because the kriffing stranger showed up, and running around in the peak heat without her water tin was not a combination to be trifled with. She hurt from her toes, to her chest and arms, to the backs of her eyes and around her entire head.

But she shook it off. She needed to shake it off.

Emotions getting the better of her, she kicked the nearest storage container, but it only made her toe twinge with a dull pain.

Despite the outburst, she really needed to get it together.

After a few moments of further deliberation, Rey fell to her knees and began trying the storage containers throughout the ship. Some were locked, and she didn’t want to take the time to break them open, so she moved on, finding some that were open.

She grabbed what she could; ration bars, extra clips for the blaster she found, and whatever else would fit in her bag. Small tech, a handful of high-quality wiring, a polished spare piece of siding. She was pulling out a dated holo-projector when a chill ran down her spine.

Rey knew, even before even turning around, that the bounty hunter, the _Mandalorian,_ was standing behind her.

Her blood felt like fire.

She moved on instinct. In one lightning-fast move, she spun on her heel, grabbing the stolen blaster from her bag and holding it up at the bounty hunter with both hands. It was small, technically, but made for hands much larger than hers. Still, she held it steady, muzzle pointed directly at the bounty hunter’s neck, one of the few spots not completely covered in armor.

To her credit, he at least flinched, taking a step back and raising both his hands.

“Easy there, kid,” he said, voice calm. Rey resented it. Even more, she resented the use of the word _kid._

“I’m taking this stuff and I’m leaving,” she hissed, putting every ounce of venomous certainty in her words.

The bounty hunter didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just watched her, cold metal giving way to nothing.

“That means you have to _move,_ ” she tried, stepping sideways but maintaining the blaster’s position. The stranger’s helmeted gaze followed her.

“You’re the one who was tracking me. You used my own footsteps,” he said, after a too-long pause. “That was smart.”

Rey blinked, confused. The pounding in her head wasn’t doing her thoughts any favors.

The bounty hunter started to take half a step towards her. “You don’t look so good, kid..”

She couldn’t take it. With a desperate snarl, she emptied the blaster, not caring if she hit her target as she shot blindly. When the blaster clicked empty, every single shot had ricocheted off his armor. Angry, tired, and fed up, Rey yanked the small but deadly knife she kept strapped to her boot.

It never made contact. In a flash, her wrist was caught in one gloved hand, and when she tried to free herself with her other, it was like trying to unlock cuffs with her bare fingers. She hissed and cursed at the bounty hunter as she twisted and fought against his hold, but to no avail. In her weakened, exhausted state, she didn’t stand a chance.

In one last-ditch effort to free herself, Rey used all her strength to pull the gloved hands holding her hostage toward her body. It took all her strength, and she really just pulled herself closer instead of visa versa, but it worked. With every fiber of rage in her being, Rey shook off her cloth mask and bit down on one gloved hand, as hard as she could.

As she felt the worn leather against her teeth, the wooziness and pain finally took over, and the last thing she remembered was falling to the floor of the bounty hunter’s ship.

When she woke up, she was cool. It was a rarity in the desert, and for a few blissful seconds, she reveled in it. The seconds were over when she remembered just why she was blinking blearily back to reality.

Rey sat bolt upright, then instantly regretted it. Her head was _throbbing._ She needed to deal with it. But her shoulder also ached, her hands felt shaky, and every bone in her body felt as though it turned to liquid.

She fell back against the hard cot she was laying on.

“You’re awake. That’s good.”

The voice made Rey freeze, and once again she sat up, albeit more carefully this time.

The bounty hunter stood in the doorway to the ship’s side room, holding a cup and a packet of ration bars. Carefully, as if he were nearing a rabid animal, he stepped into the room, then held the cup and food out to her.

She eyed it, scoffed, then snatched the cup and drained it without thinking twice. She ate the two ration bars in the pack just as quickly, then tossed the wrapper to the side.

They stared at each other until Rey’s head throbbed again, and she doubled over, gasping at the stabbing pain.

The bounty hunter had the audacity to reach out as if he was going to help her.

“Stay _away_ from me!” she growled, crawling backward on the small cot until her back hit the wall. The jarring contact made her head hurt even worse, but she ignored it. “I can heal myself _just fine._ I just need-“ she winched, “-a _moment.”_

Her words seemed to have an effect on the bounty hunter, as he went very still, save for his helmet tilting more directly at her. “Heal yourself?”

Rey rolled her eyes, though she instantly regretted the movement. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a trick.”

The bounty hunter paused, then took a step back. “Show me.”

Blunt. She appreciated it, even if it wasn’t what she wanted to do. But some small part of Rey wanted to _prove_ herself, wanted to show she wasn’t just a kid who didn’t know how to fight.

“Fine. Then I leave.”

The bounty hunter stared at her, then nodded.

Rey glared, then slowly repositioned herself. She pushed away from the wall, and slowly, _painfully,_ crossed her legs. The pose wasn’t really necessary, but for some reason, it just felt right.

She needed this to be impressive. It was at least a unique skill, taught to her by her mother, but it was useful, at least. She rarely exposed the talent, but she wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

First, Rey took stock of her injuries. Besides the headache and injured shoulder, her feet and legs ached, her chest felt heavy, and her wrist hurt from so much struggling against the bounty hunter’s grasp. Sure enough, when she unwrapped it and tugged her glove off, there was a faint bruise she could tell would darken if not dealt with.

As if she was showing off, she held her wrist out to the bounty hunter. To her surprise, his helmet tilted downward, and he looked… different. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was regretting his action. But she did know better.

Without a word, Rey pulled her other glove off, and pressed her palm to her wrist. Eyes closed, she breathed, slow, in and out, in and out, counting her heartbeats using her own pulse below her fingertips. Brow furrowed, she pressed against the bruise, tracing her fingertips against the discolored skin. She took one more deep breath, then let it out, and opened her eyes.

Triumphantly, she displayed her now unblemished wrist.

The shock was evident in the bounty hunter as he simply stared at her wrist, then tilted his helmet to look her in the eyes.

“You can heal yourself.”

“I can heal myself,” she copied, slightly proud of herself.

They stared at each other for a long, long minute. Then, the bounty hunter asked, “Are you a Jedi?”

It was like a stab of ice down Rey’s back.

_Beware the Jedi, little one._

Her mother-

_Beware the soldiers of the force, for have they their way, you would be nothing but a piece in their game._

Rey gasped.

_Beware the swords of piercing light, for they will mow down all in their path, and only a Knight of Beskar will be able to protect you. It was seen, little one. The Mand’alor is your only defense against those that wish you harm._

Mand’alor. The Knights of Beskar.

_Mandalorian._

“You’re a Knight of Beskar, a Mandalorian” she finally gasped, the weight of her memories making her throat feel tight.

The stranger, the bounty hunter, the _Mandalorian_ just stared at Rey in baffled silence.

“I mean- _what?!”_ She finally pulled herself back into reality, and the Mandalorian’s question finally clicked. A Jedi? Her?! She couldn’t help but laugh, humorless and tired.

“I don’t think I follow,” the Mandalorian said, voice halting. “But yes, I am… a Mandalorian.” The word held none of the weight when he said it that it held in Rey’s mind, and the contradiction was conflicting.

“I didn’t realize your people are real,” Rey laughed, still lost to the pain of her head and the complete lack of sense in the situation. “The Knights of Beskar, you- all of you, you’re actually real?”

If possible, the Mandalorian looked even more confused, and he crouched down so he was looking more up than down at her, putting them more level. “The Knights of Beskar? Is that… a tribe? A covert?”

Rey narrowed her eyes at him, like that would make everything clearer. “That’s what- isn’t that what your people are called?

He stared at her, silent. “My armor, it’s made of Beskar. But I’ve never heard of knights who bear the name.”

Rey stared back, then glanced to the rest of his armor, remembering how the bolts from the blaster didn’t even leave a mark.

“I take it you’re not a Jedi.”

The statement made Rey look back to his helmet. She shook her head. “Why did you think I am?”

“You can heal yourself. That’s a Jedi power.”

Again, Rey laughed, but more disbelieving than anything. “They were deadly warriors of the Force. They were destroyers. I don’t think healing was their thing.”

“Deadly warriors,” he repeated, like he was thinking to himself. “I guess you’re right there.”

“Of course I’m right,” Rey said, only a little bit smug. She sat up straighter, pressing her bare palms against her shoulder and leg as she did. Maybe she didn’t have the energy to heal them properly, but she could at least soothe the ache. “But I kind of thought the Force sorcerers were… just stories. Same with the Knights of Besk- the Mandalorians.”

The Mandalorian shook his head, just a slight turn of his helmet. “We may be scarce, but we are still alive.”

The words made the backs of Rey’s hands tingle, all the way up her arms to her spine. She couldn’t shake it off no matter how hard she tried.

“Then… the Jedi are real, too?”

He nodded.

Rey shivered.

Despite what good bedtime stories the tales of the sorcerers made, they were, she remembered now, also warnings.

_Beware the knights of the force, for they wield both magic and sword, their hearts too distant from their own chests._

“I know one, in fact.” The Mandalorian’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she flinched at the words.

“You- how?” She stared at him, eyes too-wide she knew, but she didn’t care. She knew she probably looked like a lost little child, but in the moment, still processing her own memories, she didn’t feel much better than one.

The Mandalorian’s head tilted, and Rey suddenly felt his entire demeanor shift. It was like he suddenly went slack, except the only visible change was his shoulders rising and falling. “He is… my son’s teacher,” he breathed, and Rey could _hear_ the smile tinging his voice that she could not see through the helmet.

Rey sputtered, mouth falling open in shock. “Your _son?_ You let a _Jedi_ teach your son?!” And here she thought the situation couldn’t get any more bizarre.

The Mandalorian nodded, then lowered himself to the floor of the ship to sit with his arms resting on his bent knees. He was relaxed, Rey couldn’t help but notice. It was strange, seeing this heavily armed, armor-clad man appear so… nonchalant. She could tell he was still alert, at attention, but it was as if he stopped thinking of her as a threat. She brushed off the thought as he continued to speak.

“My son has similar powers. Like your healing,” he paused, gesturing to Rey. “But not only that. Can you… do more?” The question was vague. Rey just stared at him.

“Can you move things with your mind?”

Now _that_ was ridiculous, and made Rey laugh again, the lightest of her laughter yet. “Just because I can massage away some of my own bruises doesn’t mean I can _move things with my mind.”_

“Can you only heal bruises?”

Rey shifted, breathing slowly. She could do more, she knew that. But she didn’t. The exhaustion that came with it wasn’t worth it. When she’d once tried to heal a six-inch long gash up her leg only to wake up two days later with no memory of those days, she learned her lesson.

“I… can,” she muttered. “But not very well.” She hated admitting the weakness, but there was that little feeling in her chest again, that little nudge, pushing her towards the Mandalorian.

Only, now it was pushing her to blindly _trust_ him.

Trust, the thing she struggled with most.

“Who’s this Jedi? The one that teaches your son?” Rey wanted the focus off of herself, if only for a moment.

“He’s…” the Mandalorian paused, seemed to think. “His name is Skywalker. He was a pilot in the Galactic Civil War. Destroyed the first Death Star. Or at least, that’s what people always know him for.”

Rey could only give him a blank stare. She’d expected many answers, but that wasn’t it. Besides the fact that was the longest thing she’d heard the Mandalorian say yet, it just… didn’t add up.

Maybe she was too young to remember the Galactic Civil War, and far too young to even be alive for the destruction of the first Death Star, but she still knew the stories. While she was never brave enough to venture close, she’d seen the massive, looming wreckage of the _second_ Death Star, casting nothing but waves of vile darkness in all directions.

But how could a Jedi be part of the Republic? She knew the Republic wasn’t run by Jedi, at least… she didn’t think it was. She didn’t understand.

Her silence must have confused the Mandalorian, for he said, “You didn’t understand that, did you.”

“I did,” Rey bit back, voice tight. “I just- it doesn’t make sense. The stories… Jedi are ruthless, magic-wielding warriors. Why would one be a pilot in the Republic?”

“Well, he’s not a pilot anymore,” the Mandalorian began. Rey didn’t answer, and luckily, he continued. “His job is to teach the younglings, now.”

Rey blinked rapidly, then grit her teeth. “Teaching them to kill when they’re no more than _younglings?”_

“Kill?” the Mandalorian laughed, quiet and brief. “The most they do is play saber-tag.”

If people’s eyes could pop out of their heads from shock or confusion, Rey felt like hers would.

The Mandalorian took pity on her, and she just stared at him as he continued. “I do not know where you learned of the Jedi, but they are not what you seem to think.”

Logically, she knew the Mandalorian wasn’t insulting her parents’ memory, but that was how it made Rey feel. And in her still-weary state, it made her withdraw into herself, looking down and away, her hands coming to curl into each other in her lap.

“Where _did_ you learn about the Jedi?” The Mandalorian was giving her what Rey could only describe as a soft look. The tone of voice, the slack in his shoulders, the tilt of the helmet, it all came off as _concerned._

Rey swallowed, then looked up to meet his gaze. “My… parents.” She held his gaze, unblinking.

He was silent for a long moment, and then he nodded. “The Jedi are shrouded in mystery even to those who know the few remaining ones. It’s understandable for there to be differences in stories.” Was that… was he trying to comfort her?

Rey blinked, slowly, then looked down again. Comfort from another person was unfamiliar. She wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. So, she didn’t.

“I need to leave,” was all she said, as she slid her legs off the cot and pushed herself up. Her bag was pushed halfway under it, so she reached down to grab it. When the Mandalorian didn’t stop her, she ducked her head and stomped out of the room and into the small cargo hold, where she turned on her heel and stalked down the exit ramp. The air was already beginning to cool, as the sun hung halfway past the horizon.

She made it barely thirty paces.

“Hey, kid, wait!” The Mandalorian’s voice made Rey stop in her tracks, but she didn’t turn around. Maybe it was childish, but she didn’t care.

Still, she stayed stationary as she listened to those kriffing footsteps caught up to her.

“I don’t know you. But if your powers are like the Jedi, I think one day you’ll want help.”

Rey bit back a retort, a snap of _I don’t need or want your help._ But she held her tongue.

“The Jedi I know. Skywalker. _Luke_ Skywalker. He is good. Kind. He would help you.”

Stubborn as it was, Rey refused to reply. She simply stared into the burning sky, shoulders tense.

“Remember his name. Find him, if you choose to.”

The tug in her chest, the little pull, it _desperately_ wanted Rey to turn around. She needed more answers, she needed to _understand._ But she didn’t turn around. She remained still, straight, tensed.

There was a moment, a long pause, and Rey really thought the Mandalorian was going to say more. Instead, after the night wind whistled through her hair and around her legs until she almost felt a chill, she heard the footsteps retreat, the mechanical sound of the exit ramp closing.

She only turned around when she heard the roar of the engines. She wasn’t close enough for danger, but she could still feel it, and it sent a wave of _longing_ through her. She watched the ship’s thrusters glow with life, watched as the ship slowly made its ascent, then disappeared into the ever-darkening sky. And she wished, _oh_ she wished not to be there, stuck in a desert that was too big for her tiny body, but too small for her curiosity.

And then she turned around, and she trudged back to the outpost.

 _Be wary the Jedi, little one,_ her mother whispered in her ear, breathy as the wind, light as the last remnants of the sun’s glow on her cheeks.

 _Trust the Mand’alor. Trust the protection,_ her father murmured, pulling at the fleeting, stretched shadows chasing her feet.

The Mandalorian, with his armor of Beskar, though Rey did not even fully understand what that meant.

The Mandalorian, with his mysterious son taught by a pacifist Jedi, a Jedi named _Luke Skywalker._

For a moment, Rey turned her face to the stars, towards the spot the Mandalorian’s ship disappeared. Of course, now that he was gone she finally had questions. But… that small feeling in her chest, that unbeatable spark, _whatever_ it was, it knew she would see the Mandalorian again.

She was sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> i was possessed to write this today n. it happened. in one afternoon. somehow.  
> ive never written either of these characters before 2day.  
> i do have the bare bones of a pt2 started? it involves mr flyboy skywalker and yodito and maaybe maybe a small ben solo (ABSOLUTELY no reylo tho. none. zilch. not in this fucking house.) 
> 
> anyway. thanks for sticking through whatever this is. i hope to write more! :>


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